Right and Wrong
by passionnedulivre
Summary: Hermione worked very hard to never be wrong. Draco didn't even believe in the concept. Their relationship, from the very start, was a bit inexplicable but who were they to say whether it was right or wrong. [Rated M to be safe]
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

There was a part of her that had hated every second of it.

From that first pang of affection, it had all been coated by a film of unease and unhappiness.

And really, who could have borne it any better? This relationship that forced her to face those beliefs to which she had so strongly clung her whole life. There was right and there was wrong. Being on time to class was right. Defying evil was right. Telling the truth was right. Breaking curfew was wrong. Hurting people, especially ones you cared about, was wrong. Sympathizing with the enemy was wrong.

Her world had been black and white for so long that when she had to acknowledge the color grey, it was a real emotional obstacle for her. And that was the thing wasn't it, if she was being honest. It wasn't the challenge of overcoming years of assumptions that she hated. It was being wrong about what was right.

She hated being wrong.

* * *

He loved being right.

From the first moment he let her into his life, into his mind, he knew it was the right choice.

He also knew it was harder for her, which really was comical to him. Surely she was supposed to be more open-minded than he was about these things. Human interaction was her forte. She craved friendship, mutual respect, all the things they had come to feel for one another.

He had lived in the grey his whole life. Running between what he had been told to believe and his personal experiences in the world. There wasn't a right and a wrong for him. There was only a shifting compass that he had to learn to follow. It had led him right to her.

He had loved every second of it without hesitation.


	2. One

A/N: Hello! This is my first fanfic, though I've been a reader for many years. _Right and Wrong_ for me is first and foremost the fanfic I've always wanted to read but couldn't quite put my finger on in the mass of available stories to peruse.

I'll say it once so I don't have to again- not the owner of Harry Potter or these wonderful characters.

* * *

**One**

After the holidays, purposefully spent away from the Burrow, the first few weeks back at Hogwarts was particularly strained. Ron was consistently in a foul mood, whether due to his continued tension with Hermione or his annoyance at Lavender, and ended up fueling Harry's obsession with proving Draco Malfoy was up to something. Their mutual negativity fed off of one another. Hermione felt like the only voice of reason. Trying her best to diffuse tensions and return things to normal.

The more the school year progressed though, she had to ask herself what was normal? Maybe for the three of them walking on eggshells was just a way of life. Looking over their shoulder – an unbreakable habit. She could only hope that this wouldn't always be the case. She felt only some residual disdain for Ron and Lavender's relationship seeing as it was obviously rapidly approaching its conclusion. So, she would continue to calm Harry's worries and cater to Ron's moods hoping everything would be better once they could finish this altogether melancholy school year and reach the summer months.

One night in early March, during her prefect rounds, she found herself on the seventh floor in front of the Room of Requirement. It had been a particularly trying day. She and Harry had had yet another fight about his bloody potions textbook and Ron had walked into dinner claiming he had seen the edges of the Dark Mark on Malfoy's arm when he reached across his station in Potions. As per usual, Hermione couldn't convince him otherwise. And, as per usual, she had definitely tried.

So here she was and all she could think as she stood in front of the Room of Requirement was

_I just don't want to fight anymore._

Later, when she would reflect on this moment, this night, that had ended up changing so much in her life, she wondered if she had meant quarreling with Harry and Ron or if it was a larger plea for the whole business of Voldemort and the Wizarding War to cease to run her life.

The next thing she knew a door, one visually in-between ordinary and ornate, appeared. Upon entering the presented room, so chaotic and filled to the brim with what to her looked like a random assortment of discarded things, she had the, admittedly, arrogant thought that perhaps for the first time in its existence the room had made an error in what it had conjured for her. This would prove to be the first thing she was wrong about.

* * *

The quicker the end of the year approached, the more unbearable Hogwarts became to him. Draco was permanently existing in a world of grey where his actions, unfortunately, were doing most of the speaking for him, rather than his words or thoughts. To ultimately minimize the damage he was soon to inflict, he had isolated himself since the holidays barely interacting with his housemates much less anyone else.

He continued to follow orders without ever allowing his hesitation and doubt to show. He held his chin even higher than usual and avoided eye contact with anyone that may be capable of seeing right through his facade of superiority. He felt he was slowly but surely deteriorating, mentally at least. He wasn't wrong.

He was currently in the Room of Requirement staring down yet another sleepless night and this retched cabinet. No matter how far into the restricted section he looked for answers or how often he practiced spells, nothing was working. He was moving towards admittance that it never would.

He heard the soft, unhurried footsteps right before she entered his line of sight. There wasn't time to draw his wand in defense, much less hide or ponder how the room would allow someone else in while it was occupied.

When they both registered just who the other person was, neither moved. Having not truly crossed paths or intentionally looked at one another in some time, they simultaneously noted just how defeated the other looked. He saw it in the way her shoulders lacked the same know-it-all confidence he had observed since first year. For her, it was in the way his eyes lacked emotion- any of the usual distaste or otherwise.

He is quick to admit, now, that he spoke first.

"Granger."

"Malfoy."

A pregnant pause sounded in which she mustered her usual posture and confidence, masking her general distress and he quickly did the same.

"Might I ask how you came to be in here?"

"I could ask the same. The rules of the room clearly state-"

"I know the rules. That's why I'm asking." He was also the first to infuse the expected irritation in his voice. "I've been here for hours." He unconsciously glanced at the cabinet he had come to resent. She noted this flick of the eyes but choose not to comment.

Another pause, just as uncomfortable, in which he considered asking if she knew anything about vanishing cabinets. He would keep the questioning vague, of course, no need to further corrupt his soul by involving one so clearly innocent and meant to remain so in such tasks as he was currently undertaking. However, when she spoke and asked,

"What are you doing so late in this chaos?" and gestured to the piles of junk surrounding them, with no tone of accusation in her voice but merely a curiosity, before he could stop himself he had replied with his own question.

"Are you familiar with vanishing cabinets?"

The way her eyes flashed with interest told him he had said the right thing.

* * *

Surely this was her imagination, standing here discussing obscure magic with Draco Malfoy in a room she had somehow requested. Politely discussing she might add. It was all very wrong, so very wrong. And not just for the obvious, confusing reasons, but because this man was her enemy, the antithesis of everything she and her friends believed in. Where they saw opportunities for equality and growth, he could see only his blood prejudices and submission. Calmly standing here together was not how she should be spending her last minutes before curfew.

The further they got into the theory of how such cabinets operated, she failed to question either why it mattered to him or why this was how he was spending his night. This was not the only thing that a civil conversation with Draco Malfoy was capable of making her forget. Time quickly lost meaning, so too did the wariness she usually felt around him and finally, the memories of all his taunting and name-calling were erased by this magical room. She had asked not to fight anymore, and despite a long history of just that between the two, the reprieve had been granted.

The next time the conversation paused any discomfort was gone. She rattled her brain for any lost information that may prove relevant and he basked in a new sense of possibility that he could pull this off. As the silence lingered, she realized he wouldn't have inquired after her knowledge if the object was of no consequence to him. She also realized that whatever importance it held for the boy next to her was probably against her own morals. But, the look of defeat she had first seen on his face flashed across her mind and now it was her turn to speak before she could stop herself.

"I could look for possible solutions over the next few days and let you know. No promises I'll find anything."

He looked over at her and gave a short nod. She took the opening to gather the bag she had let drop off her shoulder early in their discussion and headed the way she came towards the exit without another word.

* * *

The following week, he sat at the Slytherin table mindlessly eating breakfast. He spoke only when necessary and the majority of his energy was spent watching the witch across the hall. He had previously decided not to analyze that night in the Room of Hidden Things. Draco wasn't sure if this was a widely used name for the place but he found it an apt title. He hadn't felt a single inclination to bully or attack Granger that night. In fact, he was still surprised at how he allowed the conversation to flow, never mind his allowance that she do some research for him. Hadn't one his first thoughts upon seeing her been that he keep her as far away from his objective as possible? He didn't need help. He wasn't supposed to need help. As he, hopefully, subtly glanced at her, he saw her copy of _The Daily Prophet_ be delivered, watched as she fed the bird a piece of toast, reply to something Potter had said, attach a note to the owl, and send it on its way.

What he prayed no one else in the Great Hall noticed was the bird then head straight to him and drop a small piece of parchment in his lap without landing.

_Wednesday night. After rounds._

That's all it said. Through the whole situation, she never glanced his way, unplugged herself from the conversation at the Gryffindor table, or outwardly acknowledged in any way he or the note had ever existed. Sitting in Transfiguration later that day, he realized that he was impressed with her willpower.

On Wednesday, Draco got to the Room first. If he was being honest, it wasn't for any reason other than the anticipation of seeing her and repeating whatever you would call their last interaction. He chose not to be honest and told himself he always maximized his time spent fixing the cabinet and tonight was no exception.

When she arrived, books in hand, they simply took a moment to look at one another. After they saw a mutual need to act the same as last time, they quickly took down their defenses. Her shoulders sagged a little under the weight of the research she had brought and he lowered his chin, if only slightly. She hadn't found much but at least the bulk of it was new information for him. That hopefulness that slipped away when he worked alone on the cabinet came back all in a rush as she rattled on and handed him volume after volume.

"This one only has one paragraph that mentions a particular historical use of a vanishing cabinet, but you never know. Considering I'm not positive what the goal here is I wasn't––"

"Thank you."

He knew it was rude to interrupt but Merlin help him he needed to say it.

She froze but didn't look up at him. He knew she didn't know what to say to him, the boy who had suddenly gone from calling her a "filthy Mudblood" to expressing gratitude without any sort of real transition or explanation. Hell, he felt the same confusion about his behavior.

"You're welcome. So I'm worried about not having regular access to the cabinet's partner. It seems that could prove helpful in the future…"

He smiled.


	3. Two

**Two**

Things progressed quickly from there.

The next time they met, their talk expanded past musings about the cabinet. They commented instead on homework assignments, the recent return of the spring weather.

The fourth time, he made her laugh. The accompanying smirk didn't bother her at all. She knew that wasn't right.

The fifth time, three weeks after the first, fateful night, she took a leap of faith and asked why he needed the cabinet to work. If she was going to do this anymore, the more frequent meetings, the late-night trips to the library she invented for her friends instead, the glances in class she couldn't help herself from taking, she needed to know.

What he told her next, what he showed her branded on his arm like some beacon of darkness that she could barely tear her eyes from made her hate him.

But only for one brief second.

Because then she forced herself to look up at him. And what she saw there - hope, loss, innocence, sadness, sincerity, fear, and finally an acceptance of the disgust he expected her to feel. It all made her feel the opposite. Instead of hate, she found herself feeling a twinge of love for this boy before her. One who was so smart, so strong, so repressed and not so unlike her in many ways. She wasn't ready to define that surge of love but she was woman enough to at least own up to it, if only to herself.

It was the first time she felt right in his presence.

They had been sitting cross-legged on the floor facing one another. Hermione reached to put one hand over his barred Dark Mark and with the other, she held his cheek. At the first touch, Draco had flinched but at the second he had looked back at her and leaned towards her hand.

After a few moments, she pulled back and spoke.

"You know I can't help you with this. It doesn't matter if you want to do this or you have to. It doesn't matter who is in danger if you fail." Her breathed hitched with repressed emotion. "I _can't_."

"I know. I knew from the start this would have to end. I also knew telling you, trusting you was inevitable for me."

"Trust?" She stood, suddenly triggered by the word. "You're insane. I could walk out right now tell Harry, Ron, hell Dumbledore himself. I would put a stop to this entire thing. The Order won't have you wreaking havoc, plotting within the walls Hogwarts, attempting to _kill people."_

_"_Then why are you still here?" It was an obvious challenge. His mask was back up, his defenses.

She sunk back to the ground. All of the fight had left her. It wasn't what she was supposed to do in this room anyway, it wasn't why she came.

"I don't know."

Hermione refused to look anywhere other than the ground after that horrendous admission. The sentence she rarely uttered to those closest to her much less the Death Eater in front of her. But she hadn't lied, she didn't know. Why weren't her feet taking her running towards the Headmaster's office? Why was she still in his presence after seeing the mark? The visual proof of his bad decisions and status as her enemy was right in front of her.

Without another thought, she stood up and walked away from him. Turning her back on Draco made her stomach tie up in a knot. She knew then it was wrong.

* * *

He wasn't worried about her telling anyone. He had confided in her knowing she would keep his secrets. He knew it had been the right choice.

Trust had become just another feeling towards her that was inexplicable.

That's not to say the next few days weren't torture for him, that they didn't put him on edge. Watching her go on about her life made his stomach hurt. Whereas she had become the closest thing he had to a friend these days, he knew he was easily replaced in her life. That was assuming he had become important enough to even need replacing.

He even took a break from the cabinet. Spent a few hours each night in the Slytherin common room. Tried not to notice the younger students look fearfully at his covered arms. The whole house had their suspicions about his place with the Dark Lord, but he had yet to confirm or deny any rumors. Their continued curiosity and wariness around him had suited his needs.

Six nights after Hermione had left him in the Room of Hidden Things, he returned wanting nothing more than to abandon this task so obviously designed to make him fail.

So lost in his depression and anguish over the unavoidable, he didn't hear her approach this time. She had to touch his arm to get his attention. When he turned around the smile that appeared on his face was so wide, so involuntary, he was sure he wouldn't recognize himself in a mirror.

But then she returned the gesture and all thoughts emptied from his mind. He had been right. He wasn't alone in this feeling of contentment when they were together or missing it when it was gone.

"I thought-"

"I still can't help. I haven't changed my mind. And when the time comes for all of us to face your actions, I will fight with everything I have to protect the people I care about. But somehow, now that includes you too. But unlike the others, you don't need my defensive spell work, my research skills, or my promises of protection. I think you need a friend. And here, in this room that's what I get to be. Outside is different, but here we don't have to fight."

Her small speech floored Draco. She was right though, as usual. A friend is exactly what he needed and where she was concerned he was willing to take whatever he could get. Because somewhere along the way, she wasn't Mudblood Granger, or Harry Potter's best friend, or even a member of the light any longer. She was Hermione.

He pulled her away from the vanishing cabinet, wanting to erase the cause of tension from their line of sight, and found two chairs facing one another several corridors away. They sat in this new and improved meeting spot and picked up where they had left off before the drama of their previous meeting in a discussion about wand types. This exchange of intellectual information slowly soothed his soul. Soon, she was sharing memories about buying her own wand from Ollivander's and experiencing Diagon Alley for the first time with her Muggle parents. The small smile wouldn't leave his face, no matter how hard he tried.

* * *

The weekend came and she suddenly realized April was upon them. She sat outside, enjoying some fresh air with Harry and Ron. They were chatting about anything and everything. Ron had accepted Harry and his sister as a couple and so for the moment, things felt right between the three once again.

Hermione wasn't being an active participant in the conversation. She spent most of her time nowadays trying and failing to pull her thoughts away from the boy with blonde hair, the boy who could actually make her giggle, who matched her brains in discussions. The boy she knew no one else had the pleasure of knowing.

_Draco Malfoy, the friend. _She thought, then corrected herself. _Draco Malfoy, her friend. _

She had chosen to return to the Room of Requirement, despite his dark admissions, for all the reasons she had told him. If she was truly as good as she constantly tried to be, she couldn't turn her back on him when he so blatantly needed a friend.

The sudden mention of Draco's name outside her own thoughts brought Hermione back to the boys.

"I'm telling you we need to be following him more. The guy is a creep. This year more so than usual."

"It's obvious he's a full-blown Death Eater at this point. Even his own house thinks so."

She cut in. "Guys, stop it. It's all nonsense, your own paranoia talking."

Ron replied first. "What's your deal, Hermione? You always defend him but you should hate him, probably even more than us."

"It's not about hate, Ron." _Or any other emotion, _she silently added in her head. "It's about acknowledging you have no evidence, just wild speculation. It's second year all over again when you were convinced Malfoy had opened the Chamber. Nothing ever changes with you two."

"Ok, Hermione you're right. Sure, we've been slightly manic about Malfoy this year," admitted Harry. "But you can't actually tell us you don't think anything is going on. Remember what we saw in Knockturn Alley before school started? Or his late-night trips to the Room of Requirement?"

"Harry Potter! Are still following him on the map all the time?" Her voice quickly rose. If either boy was a better listener, they would have heard the panic laced in her voice. "You've got better things to do, Harry! Your lessons with Snape, meeting with Dumbledore, not to mention your actual schoolwork!"

"I know, I know. I just can't help myself, he is in there for hours at a time. He's doing _something. _At least I don't go to the seventh floor and wait for him to come out."

"No!" she practically screamed.

"Geez, 'Mione. I said I don't go."

She evened her breathing. _He doesn't know. He hasn't seen you go in or out. Everything is fine. _

_"_I think it's smart to keep an eye on him," Ron replied. The same tone of accusation in his voice from before.

She left the subject drop for now but she was going to have to find a way around the map if she was going to meet Draco anytime soon.

It turned out to be an easy fix. On the nights they had agreed to meet, she would ask Harry for the map. Citing her usual library excuse and adding if she ended up staying late, she would need it to get back to Gryffindor Tower without getting caught by Filch. He was happy to hand it over.

Fortunately, this also gave Hermione the opportunity to actually stay later with Draco. Following curfew rules became a thing of the past and she found herself dreading the moment one of them would admit it was time to turn in for the night.

They had also added a desk, a lamp, and a rug to their meeting spot. The space felt cozy and only added to the comfort they began to feel during their time together. She wasn't willing to admit it was all maybe a little too comfortable.

One Thursday, well into the month of April, she arrived first which usually wasn't the case. She had actually come from the library and was fully immersed in a volume explaining Horcruxes that she had every intention of returning to the Restricted section. When she finally glanced up and noticed his presence, she couldn't be sure how long he had stood there staring at her. Heat rose to her cheeks. She reminded herself, yet again, that wasn't the correct reaction she should have to him. A smile? Acceptable. A nod of acknowledgment? Perfect. But blushing? Blushing was very wrong.

* * *

He sat down in his usual chair without comment. His posture relaxed as he finally arrived in the spot he had been looking forward to all day. He watched her refocus on her book and he gathered a textbook of his own to take some notes on.

For the next half hour, nothing was said. Instead, each of them took turns glancing at their partner, assuming the other was concentrating as intently as they appeared. Draco had gotten through exactly two paragraphs of his reading before his mind wandered to the witch across from him.

In the past two weeks, the atmosphere of their meetings had taken a subtle shift. They continued to share thoughts, stories, one night even fears with one another but there was a hesitancy in their voices. They spoke more deliberately with one another. He didn't feel that it was uneasy or uncomfortable, per se, but it also wasn't the same openness they had achieved immediately after she had decided to continue despite his faults.

He wanted to believe the same, new feelings he was experiencing were causing the blushes he pretended not to see. Draco had spent so many years living only as he was expected to. He did what his family expected, what his house expected. He hadn't stopped to ponder what he actually wanted to do, how he actually wanted to act.

Just the mere existence of these late-night meetings made him feel, for the first time ever, like his own person. He wanted to be here with her. He wanted to hear her opinions, tell her his, show her this new person that she had helped to draw out, if only around her.

After exchanging glances one at a time for almost an hour, their eyes finally met. She didn't look away and he certainly wasn't willing to be the one to stop it. She opened her mouth to say something but ended up closing it. Still on a high from his own affectionate thoughts, his recognition of his autonomy, he stood and walked to her asking,

"What are you reading, Mya?"

The nickname had been decided upon shortly after a mutual commitment to be on a first-name basis with one another. He stopped at her shoulder looking down expectantly.

"Oh, just a library book. I was trying to look up something Dumbledore had mentioned to Harry."

"Interesting?" He inquired while he squatted down so they were face to face.

"Um, yes." Her voice had lost its usual confidence the longer he looked at her.

He didn't know what possessed him in the end. He had had no indication from her that this would be a welcomed move, but his gut told him to go for it. So when he leaned in and she gave no resistance, he let himself kiss her with weeks, if not months, of pent up want. Was he considering how this would affect her life, make things so much more complicated for her? Not as much as he should. Was it best he left things as they were, stay grateful for her undeserved friendship? No doubt. But kissing? Kissing was very right.


	4. Three

**Three**

She was officially in agony. She felt like she was being split in two. Part of her stayed elated after kissing Draco. She hadn't wanted to admit it but it had been the natural progression of their relationship. In what world would they ever have stayed platonic friends? Not with her heart jumping in her throat whenever he entered a room. Not with the brushes of fingertips when they passed in the hallways during the daylight hours, assuring one another nothing had changed even if he had to sneer at her or she had to narrow her eyes at him for appearance's sake. So part of her was over the moon, finally being able, with one move from him, to say she cared about him, felt affection for him beyond friendship.

The other part, however, almost couldn't stand it. How was she capable of feeling anything for this boy? He had spent so many years hurting her and she had no expectations that he wouldn't hurt her again. More incomprehensible was how easily she could throw away her morals. She was lying to most everyone in her life, almost daily to Harry and Ron. She prioritized time with Draco over studying or spending meal times with her friends. And none of this was going unnoticed.

During dinner at the Gryffindor table, only 43 hours after the kiss, Hermione was using absolutely all her willpower to limit her glances at the blonde to less than five for the whole night. The trouble was, he wasn't making the same effort and was rather blatantly staring at her.

"Hermione, where have you been lately? You are either completely MIA or off in your own world when you are here," Harry asked as he reached for more mashed potatoes.

"I've just been spending a lot of extra time in the library. You know I'm trying to do as much research as possible on you-know-whats while I can." She almost cringed when she heard the defensiveness in her tone. Everyone knows you can spot a liar as soon as they get too defensive too quickly.

"I guess. I just feel like something is going on with you."

"Yeah," Ron butt in, "sometimes you seem so happy and smiley and then the next time we see you it's all deep concentration and eye rolls. If I didn't know you, I'd say you were keeping a secret from us."

Hermione suddenly felt all the breath leave her lungs. The same moment her best friends came so close to seeing right through all her actions of late, came so close to pulling the truth out of her, one so tired of the web she was weaving. That same moment she used one of her allotted glances towards Draco only to watch him subconsciously push up his sleeves in his distraction, looking across the hall at her.

She saw the Slytherins look at the Dark Mark, the ugly proof of his forced allegiance before she heard the gasps, the murmuring, before the heads at neighboring tables whipped to see what the commotion was about. She saw him quickly recover from his mistake and pull his sleeves back down to cover what she knew was his greatest shame. The hall was abuzz, her house table was no exception. He simply took a drink from his pumpkin juice so casually she almost thought she had imagined the whole thing. He glanced around the room as if completely unperturbed by this sequence of events. When he took a risk and looked directly at her she saw the raw fear in his gaze. He had no idea what to do know. She made a split-second decision and hoped she gave what was an unnoticeable incline of her head towards the door, indicating she would come meet him. Rather than acknowledge he understood, he grabbed some cakes from the table, popped one in his mouth, and with his usual airs walked out of the Great Hall as if without a care in the world.

She tuned in to the conversation around her enough to hear the whispers of _Death Eater_, _A__re we surprised?_, and from Harry at her right, _I knew it!_

She knew the excuse she gave to leave the table was weak, a mumbled "Prefect stuff," but she didn't pause to care. She followed Draco out and headed straight for the seventh-floor corridor she was coming to know so well.

Two turns from the Great Hall and she was pulled deep into an alcove.

* * *

Draco was breathing heavily. He clutched her arm and rested his head on top of hers. He hadn't wanted to frighten her, but when he finally removed himself from the debacle at dinner he could only get so far without needing to stop and calm his nerves. The alcove was as far as he got.

Once she realized who it was accosting her, she began to rub up and down his arms, feeling his distress.

"Mya," he breathed out.

"It's okay. I know it was an accident, but you're Draco Malfoy," she reached up and held his face in her hands, "you'll figure out a way to spin this. Isn't that what Malfoys do? Make the best of anything?"

He released a shaky laugh. Feeling calmer, he put his hands on top of hers and said, "What do you know about Malfoys, huh?" He was teasing. "You're right, Mya. If anyone dares to bring it up to me, I'll just use the one raised eyebrow."

It was her turn to laugh. When she reached down to uncover the Mark, he stopped her.

"That's not for you to look at. I shouldn't have shown it to you the first time. It's too ugly for you."

"You're wrong. It's part of you, so you have to let me see it." Seeing he had opened his mouth to respond, she quickly added, "Don't argue. Let me finish. It's a part of you but that's it. This mark isn't your whole makeup, it's not even worth your regret. Because this mark doesn't define you, not in the slightest. We both know why you've made the decisions you have, why you continue to make the decisions you do. I know who you are, Draco Malfoy, maybe the only one who does. And this mark is not who you are, so it's not too ugly for me."

It wasn't the first time one of her monologues had left his speechless and it wouldn't be the last. So when she revealed the black skull on his arm, when she did the unthinkable and leaned down to press her lips against it, instead of responding with words he stuck to what he knew best and spoke with his actions.

The 45 hours he hadn't spent kissing her were suddenly the most wasted hours of his life. He hadn't been totally sure how she had felt after he had kissed her in their spot two nights ago. They hadn't talked after but rather gone back to their books. But now, the way she was holding on to the front of his shirt for dear life, letting him back her up against the wall of the assumedly hidden alcove they had found refuge in, told him she felt at least some of what he was feeling.

They stood there snogging for only Merlin know how long. As soon as he finally let go of her, if only a little, he watched as she slowly opened her eyes and the look on her face told him everything he needed to know.

It didn't matter exactly how or when. Who were they to question the workings of the world? It didn't matter what they were going to do when this war caught up to both of them. He and his Mya belonged to one another. And she was just that, his. And he, hers. He dared anyone to tell them it was wrong.

* * *

She couldn't wipe the smile off her face for anything.

She practically waltzed back to her room in Gryffindor Tower. She might not have used a little three-word phrase with Draco tonight, but she knew that's how they felt about each other.

Gone was her rational brain telling her it had only been two months. Gone was the internal cries of Proceed with caution! Former bully ahead!. Gone were the doubts about fraternizing with the enemy. Draco wasn't the enemy. He might not be prepared to sacrifice everything and stand in the light with her, but when this was all over, she planned on letting nothing stand in their way.

She started to get ready for bed when Ginny walked into the 6th year girls' room. To Hermione's surprise, she sat on Hermione's bed, pulled the curtains and cast a silencing spell.

"I'm going to do my best to be calm about this. I think you deserve some benefit of the doubt that you haven't completely lost your marbles."

"Ginny, what are you talking about? Is everything okay?"

"Bloody hell no, everything is not ok 'Mione. Or do you prefer Mya nowadays?" Ginny had a stern look on her face, her arms were crossed waiting for an explanation, any explanation.

Hermione's jaw dropped and the panic settled in. She liked to think she and Ginny were friends, close even. She just wasn't sure it was going to be enough to get the younger girl to understand.

She gathered her wits and said, "Ginny, I can tell you the whole story if you like. But I'm not sure it's going to make you feel any better."

"I'd like you to try because every scenario that's run through my head since I figured out who was in that alcove has you either cursed, sent to the mental ward at St. Mungo's, or turned against the Order."

Shocked that Ginny could think the latter of her at all, Hermione quickly launched into explaining herself. When she was done, the anger had left Ginny's face but it had been replaced by apprehension.

"The Hermione I know, the one Ron and Harry know, wouldn't have made half the decisions you have. So you're right, I don't really feel any better about it but not because I don't want to see you happy or because I don't trust you. It doesn't make me feel better because now I just don't know if we ever knew the real Hermione."

She got up to leave the room. When she was almost out the door, Hermione softly told her, "He does. He knows the real me."

Ginny paused and glanced over her shoulder and instead of responding she simply said, "I won't tell anyone," and then she was gone.

* * *

He wasn't surprised that someone had found out. When Hermione had blurted out a few weeks ago that the girl Weasley knew, he had been calm.

Everyone will know before it's over with, he thought. It was never his plan to keep this in the shadows until the end of time. And Mya was a terrible liar. He smirked and thought maybe he was rubbing off a little because she had managed to keep up charades with the Weasel and Boy-Wonder fairly successfully.

They were quickly approaching the end of May and subsequently finals. On the nights they got around to studying, while she almost wildly took notes and muttered spells to herself, he worked on the cabinet. It was something completely unspoken between them. He knew she knew but they chose to stay in their bubble of affection and respect.

In the first week of June, he knew the cabinet would work. He said nothing.

The next week, everything about their meetings took on a frantic note. When she arrived, her hugs were fierce. Sometimes he swore her kisses would leave bruises.

Their last week together, he couldn't fight it anymore and brought up the inevitable. They were lying on the couch they had transfigured from their chairs.

"Mya, when it happens, when you have to hate me, know I'll never feel the same."

"Oh, Draco. I've spent so many years hating you and it was wrong." She paused. "I know it's not right for me to ask, but will you- can you try not to hurt too many people? I'm not asking you to defy him, or defect, I just don't know if you'll survive it. Not being allowed to be your true self, being forced to-"

"I will do everything I can to walk away from this as a man who deserves you. I can't save my parent's son. I'm making these choices to preserve their lives but when it's over I'm not sure they will want anything to do with me because I will not give you up. I can't save their Draco but I promise I will do everything to save yours."

He hadn't planned to take things further than kissing. He hadn't thought it was right to feel that with her only to take himself out of her life. But when she whispered, "Thank you," and leaned over to brush her lips against his, he pulled her from his side to sit on top of him.

She pressed her chest against his, wanting more contact as much as he did. Then her fingers were skimming his stomach. She let out a moan she usually repressed during their snogging sessions. He took the opportunity to run his mouth down her neck, along her collarbone.

"Tell me you're sure. Tell me it's not about fear of losing me. Tell me that and we can do this."

"I love you, Draco Malfoy. So yes I'm sure and no it's about us at this moment and wanting to express the way we feel." She blushed. "Well the way I feel, I don't know if—"

"I love you, Hermione Granger."

Neither paused after that. Shirts were discarded. Pants and a skirt. He ran his hands down her sides wanting to learn her body for later when she was out of his reach.

She made him forget about his task, his mark, everything about himself he hated. She was all he could remember when he was with her.

He moved to pull her under him, but she resisted indicating she wanted to stay on his lap. He sat up to look into her eyes. They were bright, glowing with love and lust. His reflected the same.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her as close as possible when moved and he entered her.

She let out a single cry at the intrusion before claiming his mouth and rocking against him.

It was bliss. It was love. It was right.

Soon they were back lying on the couch, clutching each other. She lazily traced patterns on his arms and he played with her curls. They didn't say anything else before sleep claimed them.

They woke up in the early hours of Thursday morning and got dressed. He knew she was trying not to cry, it wasn't going to do anyone any good and this was only the first test in their relationship. Many would follow. He softly wiped away the few tears she let escape.

"How will I know that you are alright?" she asked.

"I won't be able to send owls, too risky on both ends. I had thought of something but I don't want to pressure you." He looked away from her suddenly nervous.

"What? I'll do anything. I'll go crazy if I constantly have to wonder."

"There is a spell. It's popular among purebloods when arranging marriages. They use it to bind an engagement contract so neither party can back out." He noted the shocked look on her face and quickly continued. "But it has other purposes! We would be able to feel one another. That's to say I wouldn't feel what you felt exactly, or vice versa, but with concentration we could connect to the other's magic, assure ourselves the other was alive. It was supposed to make the marriage spells stronger for couples who had no previous relationship, but I think it would serve our purposes well."

"Let's do it."

"Hermione, did you hear the part about not backing out? I mean we might be able to find a reversal spell down the line, we are the two smartest students in our year, but if not eventually the spell would force us into marriage."

"Who said anything about force? I'm not saying that we won't have stuff we have to work out when this is over. It's going to bloody hard. This war is going to leave scars. But I think we've established that I'm never going to love anyone the way I love you. So how do we do it?"

Merlin, he vowed to survive this, no matter what it took, just so he could have a chance to love this woman with everything he had for the rest of time.

"It's similar to the marriage spell, just with less theatrics. Grab my wrist, point your wand at my hand, and repeat after me.

_Pollicitus_."

"_Pollicitus_."

His hand tingled with the new magic. They smiled at each other, feeling momentarily better about their upcoming separation. She leaned up for one more quick kiss.

"Love you, Draco."

"Love you, Mya."

She gathered her things, knowing they both had to make it back to their dorms before any roommates woke up for breakfast. They walked to the door together. At the last second before she walked away from him he said,

"Monday night. Be ready."


	5. Four

**Four**

She wanted to scream at anybody that would listen that it just wasn't right.

He had been ripped from her life and she couldn't _say _anything. She couldn't grieve or worry. Her friends wouldn't have understood what she was going through and she wasn't going to tell them anything.

A few days after Dumbledore's funeral, after hours of hearing Harry and Ron rant about Death Eaters, Snape, and "that coward Malfoy", when she went to bed in Ginny's room that night she finally let herself cry for what she had lost. Ginny tried to comfort her, ran her fingers through Hermione's curls, but only made it worse when she said "I promise eventually you'll be able to forget about him," thinking Hermione and Draco were over, that she hadn't known about his plans.

She was also so grateful for Snape. Merlin perish the thought, but he had made sure in the end that Draco was innocent of that most egregious crime. She had tried to get more details about what happened in the tower from Harry, what Draco said, how he acted, but she was reluctant to pry too much and Harry had quickly been returned to the Dursleys for the summer.

She hated to admit it but the longer she was away from Draco, the more doubts crept into her mind. Had he celebrated the Death Eater infiltration of Hogwarts? What was the real reason he hesitated to kill the Headmaster? Was their time together all just an easy lay for him? In the moments where she almost managed to convince herself he didn't love her, she would pause and concentration of the pull between their magic. _Promised. _That's what the spell meant. Suddenly her senses were flooded of memories of him, of the future she was determined to fight for. And all was right again.

After cherishing a few weeks of vacation with her parents and moving forward with the plan to obliviate them, she returned to the Burrow for Bill and Fleur's wedding somehow empowered by her actions. She had sacrificed her family, but she knew who it was for- Harry, Ron, Dumbledore, the Order, and Draco. She was going to fight this fight and they were going to win. Otherwise, every decision she had made in the last 8 months were for not and she wasn't going to be wrong.

* * *

Every day was a different hell. One day it was watching the snake prey upon another Muggle. The next it was his father being subjected to _cruciatus_ after _cruciatus_. His mother didn't even speak anymore. His home had been invaded by a psychopath and there was no end in sight.

The Dark Lord hadn't been happy to hear that Snape was the one to do it in the end. Draco had failed despite everything and he couldn't decide if he was relieved or angry. On the one hand, he wouldn't return to Hermione with murder on his hands but on the other what was the point of fighting for the dark in the first place and leaving her if all he got in return was punishment and disgust.

One fall morning his mother uncharacteristically appeared in his room. She sat silently on the edge of his bed and absentmindedly ran her fingers through his now almost shoulder-length hair. He wasn't sure if this show of affection was for her or him but he welcomed it.

"Mother."

Nothing.

"Mother this house is suffocating me. It's suffocating you."

Nothing.

"We could go you know. I would find a way for us to go."

Her eyes snapped to his.

"Do not dare."

It wasn't malicious but it was a warning all the same. He realized in that moment staying for the two of them was pointless. His father would never leave service—he believed the maniac's lies. And his mother. She had just proved she had chosen to succumb to the fear rather than make any attempt at survival.

She left the room once again under her vow of silence and with the click of the door, Draco began to plan his own way out. His way back to Hermione.

* * *

Nothing about being on the run sat right with Hermione. Sure she had made the plans, packed the tent, thought about every possibility. But it didn't suit her. She had no room to lock herself in and think when things got bad. Of course, she didn't run away as Ron had done. Even with his return she acutely felt the sting of that betrayal. That disregard for loyalty, for years of friendship the second things had gotten truly difficult.

The only positive thing she could say had gained during their time away was the ability to tune out her surroundings. No matter where she was what the boys were doing, she could close her eyes and think blissfully about Hogwarts and Draco and her parents. The cramped quarters had meant she had had to in the recent months if she was going to make any intelligent plans or find the next Horcrux. There was no library to escape to where the boys wouldn't follow.

As she lay bleeding on the floor of Malfoy Manor her newfound talent was serving her quite well. She wasn't listening to Bellatrix's shrieks. She didn't see the flashes of light as the boys burst in to rescue her. Her mind was in the Room of Hidden Things, Draco by her side, a good book in hand. She took a moment to reach out and feel the _pollicitus _bond. Just as Ron pulled her up and towards a waiting Harry and Dobby, she released a desperate sound, something between a sob and a scream. The bond was gone. She couldn't feel him at all. Something terribly wrong had happened and it had nothing to do with the cursed carving on her arm.

The boys assumed her silence came with the trauma she had seen in the ballroom. They asked no questions, pushed no boundaries, expected nothing from her. They quickly fell into a routine at Shell Cottage. When they woke up, Fleur would check her bandages and the boys would push breakfast across the table to her silently pleading with her to take care of herself. The rest of the day was spent staring out the window and letting the crashing waves lull her into nothingness. At dinner, Bill would give an update on the Order and it would go again the next day.

She had tried to find the bond once more upon her arrival at the cottage but after no response, she had stopped trying. It hurt too much to imagine what it meant so she continued to ignore its absence.

Two weeks into their stay she awoke to raised voices. The boys were already observing from the doorway when she made her way downstairs. Lupin and Tonks were arguing with occasional inputs from Bill or Fleur.

"Allowing this to continue is the worst decision we could make."

"How can you say that Remus? It's about family. He needs us."

"We know nothing about him. Is he dangerous? What if he hurts you?"

"I agree with Remus. Fleur and I don't think it's a good idea and it's been going on long enough."

"Well, you tell your mother that Bill Weasley and you just see what she has to sa—Oh hello you three! It's so good to see you!"

Hermione knew Tonks was pregnant but she was having a hard time believing Remus was still trying to end the pregnancy. She thought they had moved past this.

"—I think it would be good for you all. Although I must admit things have been changing around the Order."

"Sorry, what are we talking about?"

The boys looked at her sharply she had spoken so infrequently lately, they were surprised one of Tonks' infamously chaotic rants had been the thing to start her up again.

"Tonks wants us to visit headquarters and see everyone. I know it's not ideal but we haven't really planned our next move so I don't see the harm. Don't you think it would be nice to see everyone?"

Harry asked her so timidly as if the mere suggestion of moving anywhere or seeing anyone would break her. And maybe it would, she wasn't even sure.

But she nodded her agreement anyway. The boys needed this. While they were distracted at Grimmauld Place maybe she could find some solitude and conjure up enough strength to help them end the war before it ended her. Though arguably it already had. Draco was gone.

Soon they were landing on the doorstep and entered the foyer. Hermione cradled her still injured arm as they stepped into the living room only to be greeted by the majority of the Weasley clan. Even Shacklebolt was there, quickly drawing Lupin into a whispered conversation. After her obligatory hug with Mrs. Weasley that sadly put her on edge more than it comforted her, she quickly decided to slip back into her new favorite place where there was nothing and no one around her.

Except something caught her attention. It was Fred Weasley.

"Yeah, we even have a defector to take care of now. And might I say, this one's a doozy."

Harry and Ron furrowed their brows in confusion.

"A defector? You mean like someone on Voldemort's side deciding to join us?"

"Yes," Mrs. Weasley interrupted. "And I want you boys to behave appropriately. He is staying here for the time being. Truth be told we aren't sure what to do with him." She glanced at Lupin. "It's hard to agree on a course of action but we did take away his wand."

"Well, who the bloody hell is it?"

"It's me."

* * *

Draco heard the ruckus downstairs for quite a few minutes before he decided to investigate. He rarely left his room seeing as Mrs. Weasley was the only one who seemed to know what to do with his presence.

Two weeks prior, he had landed on the doorstep, arguably the Order's and death's, battered and bruised. War wounds from his tumultuous escape out of the Dark Lord's clutches. Truly he had been barely alive. He was thankful they had healed him before asking questions.

Before anyone could say anything about his statement or his presence his eyes had found hers and in the blink of an eye her wand was out and she had cast a spell to silence and immobilize the others in the room.

That done, she simply stared at him. To be honest, it wasn't the reaction he had been dreaming of. Surely she had missed him as much as he had her. Surely she wanted to be in his arms as much as he wanted her in them.

"Mya..."

That was all it took. Hermione was across the room in seconds arms locked around his neck as if never letting go. And if that had been the case he wouldn't have minded. His arms circled her back pulling her to him. His face buried in her neck. There had been so many moments where he doubted if they would ever have the chance to be like this again.

She suddenly pulled back.

"Draco I don't understand. You were gone."

"I know, love but I told you it was all temporary. Did you doubt me?"

"No Draco you were _gone. _I couldn't feel the bond."

He paused in confusion but reached out to hold her arm with an assurance that whatever had plagued her was over. She wrenched herself away.

He was suddenly aware her charms on the others had worn off but still, no one moved. In disbelief of the scene before them.

Tears began to fall down her cheeks.

"I couldn't feel it. I thought you were dead." She turned away putting her back to him. And in the softest voice he had ever heard her use she said.

"I didn't want to live if you were dead." Then her voice came back in full force and she whipped around to look at him.

"Don't you see how insane that is. How wrong it is of me to entangle my life so strongly with yours? What would the boys do without me? I've spent weeks trying to feel nothing rather than the complete and blinding pain of you being gone." Her voice cracked and she laid her forehead on his chest. "Never leave me again."

He released a small smile.

"I promise."

She chuckled.

"I'm sorry what the bloody hell is happening?" "Hermione, what is this?" Harry and Ron spoke up at the same time.

He saw her take a deep breath before turning to face the room but staying in his arms.

"You aren't seriously with this, this Death Eater? He killed Dumbledore for Merlin's sake!"

Hermione audibly growled at Ron.

"He isn't a Death Eater. Not by choice. And if I'm remembering correctly a former Professor of ours hold the title murderer, not Draco."

Before he could respond she continued, "You both deserve the whole story, you all do. And I promise to tell it. But can it wait? I need to take my potion and Fleur? I think it's time for new bandages."

Draco's eye flew to her arm. Finally registering the fact that she was injured.

"What happened? Who hurt you?"

In his anger, he could feel the magic starting to come off of him in waves.

"We were caught a few weeks ago. Violated the taboo. The snatchers recognized us, took us to…" She looked up at him again, "…Malfoy Manor."

His back straightened and he felt the goosebumps race down his spine. Many in the room were also hearing the story for the first time and stayed silent waiting to understand what exactly the trio had been through in their long absence.

"Who?" he repeated almost scared to know.

She placed a hand on his cheek before admitting, "It was Bellatrix."

He ripped himself away from her as if burned. This was the type of insanity he had clawed his way out of. This was the past he so desperately wanted to forget. And here was his Mya telling him in his absence she had been taken to that very place, tortured by his blood relation. The guilt was all-consuming.

"Draco look at me." She was back in front of him. "This is not your fault. Even if you had been there, trust me, even ask the boys, there was no stopping her. I'm here, I survived. We survived."

His eyes meet hers and he saw the truth in them. He pushed his magic through their bond so she could feel without words how grateful he was, how in love he was.

* * *

Dinner that first night at Grimmauld Place was quite the affair. The boys had been teetering between disbelief and anger all day, wanting some answers from their best friend. It was clear the others were confused and waiting as well.

Mrs. Weasley managed to put dessert on the table before Lupin spoke up.

"It seems to me, Hermione, that we would all like to understand the situation a little better. Can you enlighten us?"

She could tell the former professor was particularly wary of the new addition to the house even more so that he had seemingly bewitched one of his favorite students.

She glanced Draco's way before replying "Ask away, Professor."

"When did this start?"

"Well, we started seeing each other after the holiday last winter. It wasn't romantic until later."

She saw Ron flinch at the word choice but she was determined, to be honest, otherwise, none of them would be able to understand.

"Seeing each other?"

"We ended up in the Room of Requirement one night purely by accident and," she paused allowing Draco to step in.

"And we just silently agreed we didn't have to act the way we had for six years."

She thought that summed it up nicely.

"Hermione, how did you manage this without us noticing?" It was Harry's turn.

"To be honest, every time I mentioned a library session you all tune me out. And I starting taking the map so you couldn't catch us both entering or leaving."

"Bloody hell. You lied to us for months!"

"Ron––"

"No, this is ridiculous for all your talk of loyalty, of friendship, this is how you act? All secrets and Death Eaters?"

Before she could respond, Lupin said "Ron if you don't mind. Draco, why are you here? Is your defection a result of your feelings for Hermione?" She appreciated the attempt to get the conversation back on task.

"Partly. I made a promise that I would do everything I could to remove myself from the Dark Lord. But she also knew I felt like I needed to stay and save what was left of my parents. There came a point when I could no longer do both." He looked at her keeping her gaze captive, making sure she would hear what he said next. "I couldn't save them and save him too."

Only she understood what he was saying. He couldn't save her Draco, the man only she knew. If he had stayed he would have sacrificed that part of himself and so he had fled, damn any other consequences. She knew the tears were threatening to spill. As far as she was concerned he had done the right thing. She couldn't have survived standing before him knowing the man she loved was no longer there.

The room stayed silent until Mrs. Weasley, ever the intuitive woman, asked a question of her own.

"Earlier dears, you mentioned a bond. Hermione, you said you 'couldn't feel it'?"

She had hoped this at least wouldn't come up tonight or in the near future. But alas, she would have to own up to this as well. She didn't think the boys would really be able to handle it.

"Yes, well, um, we had to– well we wanted to–" Draco took her hand under the table. She started over, pushing down her nerves. "We knew we would be separated so we used a spell to bond our magic slightly. It works like a push and pull. No matter the time or space apart, we can concentrate to feel the other. It was so we would know the other was alive and well."

The adults in the room had been listening intently, their eyes widening as Hermione alluded to the spell they had cast.

Wanting confirmation, Mrs. Weasley asked, "And what spell would this be?"

"Pollicitus."

"Merlin." That outburst came from Lupin. Suddenly he was angry. "Do you know what you've done? You can't possibly understand the implications here."

Harry and Ron's heads were whipping back and forth between the couple and the witches and wizards they were facing.

Tired of the attack she and Draco were being put through, Hermione raised her own voice in response, "Of course I knew the implications. We made the decision together. I would do it again today, tomorrow. I had to give him up once, wondering if I would see him again and I won't do it again. I will not give him up!"

She knew this show of passion had flabbergasted the room.

"But engaged, dear? So soon? You're so young and we are at war."

She wanted to say several things to Mrs. Weasley, still worked up from her outburst with Lupin, but the boys had latched onto the word engaged.

The next few minutes were different variations of the same "I can't believe this" from both boys at increasingly louder levels.

Surprisingly, Draco was the one to take them on.

"If you are quite finished?" Silence reigned. "All due respect Mrs. Weasley, I think there was a better word to use." Hermione tried to make eye contact with him, confused, but then he continued. "The spell translates to 'promised' and I think it's a more accurate description of the choice we made. When I decide to propose to Mya–– yes, when–– I will get on one knee and there will be a ring involved. When this bloody war is over and won then it will be time to use words like engaged."

For the second time in the course of the conversation, Hermione was awestruck by him. Usually, it was the other way around but she was starting to love these passionate monologues from him. Maybe in their separation roles had been switched. The thought made her smile.

For a minute things seemed to be at an end. The adults nodded their heads at Draco's display of long-term intentions towards her and the boys had replied at all. The twins were back to their dessert.

Then Harry's head whipped up to look at her, with a look of realization, and she knew things were about to pick back up.

In fact, he pushed his chair back and stood before saying, "What did you mean when you said knew you would be separated?"

Hermione closed her eyes, for the first time afraid of the consequences of answering honestly. Draco must have attempted to speak speaking because Harry, with ice in his voice, said, "No, I'm asking Hermione."

She dragged her gaze to his, tears already falling.

She was sure that was all the answer he needed but she spoke anyway. "Harry, I don't know what I can say to make it better. I didn't know what would happen. That Dumbledore would–– I was wrong. I will freely admit I was wrong but I didn't know what to do. I was being pulled back and forth and I––," she broke off, sobbing now.

"You knew Death Eaters were coming. You knew he would let them in and you told NO ONE?! He's dead! He's dead because of you. He can't help us because of you."

"No, Harry, please. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Draco need––"

"YOU CHOSE HIM. You chose him over us, over the Order, over the Light. As far as I'm concerned it's unforgivable."

He left the kitchen then, Ron closely behind but without so much as a word.

She couldn't even look at the others in the room because ultimately Harry was right. She had chosen Draco. In the moments where she couldn't see right and wrong, black and white, she chose to be in the gray with him. She let the chips fall where they may. Now she didn't know how she could ever make it right again.


End file.
